Sort of a memoir.” “Afraid of what you might lose? But that’s unreasonable, Tyler. “You’ve been fidgeting all day.” “I’m thinking of writing something,” I said. Her eyes caught the last light very fetchingly, but her look was still wary-that hadn’t changed. Diane slouched in a deck chair, her yellow sundress and comically wide straw hat reduced by the gathering darkness to geometries of shadow. It was a technology, in the famous quotation, “indistinguishable from magic.” What else but magic would allow the uninterrupted flow of air and sea from the Bay of Bengal to the Indian Ocean but would transport a surface vessel to far stranger ports? What miracle of engineering permitted a structure with a radius of a thousand kilometers to support its own weight? What was it made of, and how did it do what it did? Perhaps only Jason Lawton could have answered those questions. We watched the Earth’s shadow climb the pillar as the city grew dark. The near leg of the Arch gleamed like a burnished red nail pinning sky to sea. A freighter heading down the coast to the port of Teluk Bayur became a necklace of lights in the offshore blackness, effortlessly gliding. The view fascinated her, and I was pleased and relieved that she was-Ģ ROBERT CHARLES WILSON after everything that had happened-still capable of taking such pleasure in it.
Diane had spent most of the afternoon on the balcony, sweating in the shade of a faded striped umbrella. Or, say, very roughly, New York to Chicago. On dry land, it would have reached from Bombay on the eastern coast of India to Madras on the west. The Archway’s far leg descended to the undersea peaks of the Carpenter Ridge more than a thousand kilometers away, spanning the Mentawai Trench like a wedding band dropped edgeup into a shallow pond. As impressive as this seemed, only a fraction of the whole structure was visible from the west coast of Sumatra. During pleasant weather, and there had been no shortage of that over the last few days, we could see the nearest part of the Archway: a cloud-colored vertical line that rose from the horizon and vanished, still rising, into blue haze. Nine hundred euros a night bought us privacy and a balcony view of the Indian Ocean. E So we rented a room on the third floor of a colonial-style hotel in Padang where we wouldn’t be noticed for a while. Verybody falls, and we all land somewhere. Cover art by Drive Communications, New York 0 Edited by Teresa Nielsen Hayden A Tor Book Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC 175 Fifth Avenue New York, NY 10010 Tor® is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form. Housman is quoted by permission of The Society of Authors as the Literary Representative of the Estate of A. SPIN Copyright © 2005 by Robert Charles Wilson “Infant Innocence” by A. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. 1.TOR® A TOM DOHERTY ASSOCIATES BOOK NEW YORK Here are 13 misconceptions about people who drink black coffee.
But I did realize that people started to see me differently because of my coffee habit. I soon came to realize that my choice to drink black coffee really had an effect on the people around me… guys, I’m totally kidding. “Eww, that’s so gross! How can you drink it like that? Are you sure you don’t want just a little cream?” It wasn’t long before my morning drink of choice was met with sudden outcry. In fact, the only time I ever consumed any sort of coffee was if it was frozen and topped with whipped cream, and even then I told myself that it “didn’t really count.”īut before long, late nights at the library and early morning classes had me hitting the coffee station hard, with only one packet of Splenda to protect me from becoming a real coffee “purist.” By adding your email you agree to get updates about Spoon University Healthierīefore college, I swore that I would never get into coffee.
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